i also like bacon.

I think something’s wrong with me.

I mean besides the obvious.

I mean, there must be SOMEthing wrong with me, because I’m…

happy.

(Gasp!) (The horror!) (Cue dainty fainting and gentlemanly exclamations muffled behind handlebar whiskers)

And while I am, as a rule, reduced to giggles at others’ perception of me and corresponding conclusions that a girl of my particular persuasions (read: marriage? no. monsters? yes.), must surely be affected by larger unconscious psychological underpinnings of sorts, I am, as of late, perturbed by said silent accusations that a girl like me is nothing but an ignorant brew of maladies and malcontent- unaware of the trauma! the turmoil! the ugly cry face! within.

And in what is surely a sign of latent adult tendencies residing within my unicorn hide, it’s not so much a selfish need for people to see OHMYGODLOOKHOWHAPPYIAM, it’s more of a general morose emotion based on the realization that to many, different= bad= unhappy= nocupcakesforyou.

So, yes, I’m happy. Yes, unicorns and rainbows happy. Yes, despite the fact that I’m not married to my boyfriend of eleventy-hundred years (that’s just how we like it. I got no other explanation), and yes despite my penchant for tattoos ( I love them. I got no other explanation), and yes EVEN despite my love affair with all things flesh eating. and black. and bloody. (I like zombies. I also like sparkles. I got no other explanation).

So yes, I’m happy.

But I’m so so sad puppy dogs and big fat tears, furrowed brow kind of sad for people who just can’t understand different. Who think that just because your life choices aren’t THEIR life choices that there’s something wrong with YOU.

So I revise my previous statement to the contrary.

There’s nothing wrong with me.

I mean besides the obvious.

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~ by rubylocks on July 6, 2010.

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